


Dancing at Weddings (in kilts)

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Men in Kilts, One Big Happy Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: Fred has a plan to get George together with the wizard of his dreams. It doesn't quite go the way that he intended, but this is me, so there's always a soft, fluffy HEA for everyone 🥰 And Oliver Wood in a kilt...
Relationships: George Weasley/Oliver Wood, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 34
Kudos: 146





	Dancing at Weddings (in kilts)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was borne out of the dual realisation (thanks to a Fremione Fanatics fest chat group) that (1) George/Oliver (Geoliver?) is actually a really cute ship and (2) we need more fics featuring men in kilts. Also includes the conclusion of a conversation in which I explained that we don't use the term "pick-up game" in the UK, which caused some American friends - not unreasonably - to ask for an alternative phrase. Hope you enjoy 😊
> 
> As ever, I write purely for my own enjoyment and have no interest in criticism, so save that for those who are seeking it, but happy comments are always welcome 😊

“Dance with me?”

“Come again?”

Oliver Wood looked at Fred Weasley with an amused smile.

“I asked you to dance,” Fred said with a grin, holding out his hand towards his old quidditch captain and drinking partner. “It’s the twenty first century, mate. Wizards can dance with each other, if they like. Ask Dean and Seamus,” he added, nodding his head to where the pair were smooching in their own corner of the marquee, their cheeks pressed together.

Oliver shrugged and took the redheaded wizard’s offered hand. “Alright then,” he said, and held out his arms for Fred, who fussed a bit before he figured out where to put his hands. The kilt was part of the problem, though Fred had to admit that it was turning heads. “You don’t look like you’ve danced with a wizard before,” Oliver remarked.

“I haven’t,” Fred grinned again. “But I’m game if you are. And I’ve got an ulterior motive, in case you haven’t guessed…”

Oliver tipped his head to one side, unsure of whether he should trust Fred with this one. Yes, it might be good to talk to the man whose twin he fancied. On the other hand, Fred and George were unbelievably close, and Oliver could just as easily cock it up by saying the wrong thing, or giving too much away. So, as tended to be his way, Oliver kept his counsel and, as the pair danced – somewhat awkwardly – around the edge of the floor, they chatted mainly about quidditch, and how Oliver’s season was going.

As they passed the happy couple, Ginny’s eyebrows raised, and she leaned in towards her brother. “Is it working?” she asked, immediately figuring out what Fred's game was.

Fred’s gaze roved the seats around the edge of the dance floor until they settled upon his twin. “Oh,” he said, seeing the expression on George’s face. “Maybe… Let’s step it up a notch.” He drew Oliver slightly closer to him, whispered, “sorry mate, it’s for your own good … both of you,” into Oliver’s ear and, looking directly at his twin, gave George a hard, enquiring stare.

“Oooh, nice,” said Ginny, who was leading Harry and keeping as close to the taller wizards as possible so she could see how this would play out. Then she looked directly at Oliver. “Fred’s trying to make George jealous, you know,” she reported.

“Is that so?” Oliver was still a bit non-committal, but his stomach gave a small leap of excitement and he couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. He had fancied George Weasley for a while, and the two had been skirting around the issue a bit. The odd glance; the occasional accidental brushing of fingers while handing each other a beer during Friday night drinks down the pub; a bit more jostling and bumping each other than might be strictly necessary after the casual Sunday afternoon fly abouts at The Burrow. But neither of them seemed to be able to make the move that would shift their friendship into a different zone.

“Good job I’m here,” Fred said, as if reading Oliver’s thoughts. “I seriously can’t watch the two of you fluttering around each other anymore.” He leaned towards Oliver’s ear, making it look to the watching George as if Fred was pressing his cheek to Oliver’s face. Fred pulled another face at his twin. A face that said, well either you come and dance with him, or keep watching me cuddle the man you want in your arms.

Across the room, George stood up, and Fred pulled back with a soft laugh.

“Hey up,” he said. “Here we go. You can thank me later,” he said to Oliver. But then, almost immediately, Fred looked surprised, and Ginny let out a barking laugh.

“Well that serves you bloody well right,” she said, as Fred’s expression changed again. Both Oliver and Harry took control of their partners so they could turn around and see what was happening. Both laughed with joy to see that George Weasley had risen, crossed the room and was down on one knee asking Hermione to dance. Laughing, the curly-haired witch took the taller wizard’s offered hand and George led her onto the dance floor. They exchanged a quick word with George’s parents before George brought Hermione close to his chest, leaning down so he could chat to his friend as they danced. Then he turned, and both of the watching couples witnessed the smug expression on his face as he held Hermione close, giving Fred exactly the same cheeky look and raised eyebrows that Fred had given him just moments before.

“Oh, bloody hell,” said Ginny. “Dance him over here!” she mouthed to Hermione, who tried to obey and move her dancing partner closer to their friends. But she was no match for George, who was oblivious to her desires, instead singing into her ear as a means of getting closer and in an attempt to make Fred jealous. Before Hermione could move him any nearer to Ginny, she and Harry were called to say goodbye to guests who wanted to leave. “Sort it out!” she called to her brothers as she allowed her new husband to lead her away.

“Right,” said Fred, watching Hermione giggle at a story George was telling her. That wasn’t right. Hermione should be giggling at his stories. “This calls for drastic action.” Pulling away, he took Oliver by the hand and led him to a nearby sofa. “Please,” he said, tugging at Oliver’s hand and getting the older wizard to sit on his lap. “I promise this will do it.”

“I am capable of arranging my own love life, you know, if that’s what you’re trying to do,” Oliver said, although he did agree to sit on Fred’s lap. “I’m not totally inept. Just haven’t found the right time to say anything…”

“Of course you’re not an idiot,” Fred agreed cheerfully. “But it’s clear that you both feel the same way, and yet you’re both a bit crap at making the first move.”

Oliver couldn’t disagree with that, although it was nice to have George’s feelings confirmed. But as soon as his eye was caught again by the sight of George tipping Hermione backward, he easily countered. “And you’ve told Hermione how you feel, have you?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Fred replied. “Just haven’t found the right moment,” he said.

“Well, then.” A wicked smile slowly crossed Oliver’s face. “No time like the present, is there?” He slid off Fred’s lap and strode over to George.

“You going to tell him?” Fred called.

“Something like that,” Oliver said.

When Oliver reached Hermione and George, he held out his hand and spoke a few words. Fred was pleased to see that George blushed a little; just on the tip of his remaining ear. He wasn’t as pleased to see that it was Hermione who took Oliver’s hand and was engulfed by his arms. And, rather than stepping into Oliver’s arms and finally sharing his feelings, a slightly grumpy-looking George sidled over to the sofa and lumped down next to his twin.

“How the fuck?” Fred asked, making George turn. “How the fuck did you cock that up? It was there on a plate for you,” he said. “Oliver’s dancing with Hermione, for fucks sake! He doesn’t even fancy witches!”

“I know.” George shrugged. “It just sort of happened.”

“Gods,” Fred moaned, and then he began to laugh. Hermione had caught his eye and given him a wink, which had gone straight to his cock.

“This is fun,” she said to Oliver, who chuckled into her ear.

“Tis indeed,” he replied. “How long shall we torture them for?”

“I think another minute or two should do it,” she smiled, and Oliver took her on a slow circuit of the wedding marquee, nodding and smiling at various friends, before he looped them back towards the twins, still sitting together on the sofa.

“Shall we put them out of their misery now?” Oliver asked, and Hermione nodded.

“Yes, go on then.”

The pair approached the sofa and each held out a hand; this time towards the twin that they liked. Fred was the first to take Hermione’s hand but, rather than allowing her to pull her towards the dance floor, he instead brought her onto his lap.

“Thought we might have a chat,” he said, and she smiled in reply.

“I’m okay with that…” She arranged her dress over her knees and got comfortable on Fred.

Oliver was still standing. “George,” he began. “I was wondering … if you might like to…” Then he paused.

George smiled. “Dance with you and then take ourselves off into a corner to get to know each other in a different way?”

“Exactly.” Oliver chuckled, George took his offered hand and they wandered just a few feet away before looping their arms around each other and swaying to the music; just enjoying the sensation of finally having their tall bodies pressed together. Oliver’s arms were around George’s waist, and George’s around Oliver’s shoulders and, although the wizards both missed the happy looks on their mothers’ faces, Hermione and Fred did not.

“Your mum will have almost a full set, with George paired up,” she said to Fred.

“That she will.” His fingers played with the front of her dress. “Just me to go,” he added.

“Yes…” Hermione looked around the dance floor. “Well, maybe you should tell me who you like, and I’ll dance you over to them…”

“Cheeky witch,” Fred remarked, his face really close to hers now. “You know as well as I that it’s you I want. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks now. Is tonight my lucky night?”

For once, Hermione didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned forward, taking the back of Fred’s neck gently in one of her hands. She smiled, not least because of the surprised expression on his face – it was fun to surprise a Weasley twin, she realised, and made a note to do that more – and parted her lips as she met his mouth; a clear indication that their kissing was going to be anything but chaste. 

Fred moaned as he felt Hermione’s mouth caressing his own. Fireworks began to go off in his belly and he shifted his body slightly, knowing that he was going to get hard. He curved around Hermione, cradling her back, and Hermione responded in kind; pressing herself more closely to him. Fingers dug gently into backs and necks as their mouths melded together.

Across the room, Oliver and George had stopped dancing. George had used his insider knowledge – gained while spending the previous weekend helping to erect the marquee under Molly’s direction – to pull Oliver through a gap in the sides of the tent. Once alone, under the stars, he had made short work of turning a few leaves into a blanket and pillows, and then he tugged gently at Oliver’s hand until the older wizard was laying down beside the redhead.

“I’m not very good at casual,” George began, his long fingers drawing small circles on Oliver’s waist and hips. He couldn't believe how turned on he was by Oliver's kilt; wanting to sneak his hand up inside the thick woolen fabric and find out whether Oliver had been telling him the truth when he had mentioned a few weeks ago that a true Scotsman wore nothing underneath his kilt. “In fact,” he said, deciding to tell the truth from the outset, “I’m not looking for casual. Just so you know…”

“To be honest,” Oliver said, looking relieved, “That’s why I’d not said anything before. I didn’t want to sound clingy, but given that we’re mates … well if you only want a one night thing, then I’d rather refrain, or wait til you’ve sown your oats and are ready for something steadier.” He sighed, enjoying George’s touch.

George let out a soft laugh. “You’re alright,” he said. “I’m ready for steady right now, if you are?”

Just as Hermione’s had been, Oliver’s response was non verbal and came in the form of a kiss, which quickly escalated as the wizards pressed their bodies together, each wanting the other to be able to feel the physical evidence of their attraction. George began to sneak a hand up Oliver's kilt, making the Scot laugh gently. A nearby owl hooted, making George chuckle as well, but he was set on his target and responded by spreading his fingers, gently raking the soft, dark hairs that covered Oliver's thigh before moving them higher. Both of the wizards sighed in lust when George discovered the answer to his previous question...

Fifteen months later, Fred was again slow dancing with Oliver while George waltzed Hermione around a marquee. The twins and their partners had wanted a double wedding, and the four had stood together at the altar. Fred and George had been each others’ best man, and Harry and Ginny had stood beside Hermione while Charlie and Oliver’s sister had stood with the now-famous quidditch player. Ginny had spent much of the lead-up to the wedding being excited at the fact that Oliver was going to wear a traditional kilt again, and she and Hermione had agreed within moments of seeing the groom that it had been worth the wait. George hadn’t been able to tear his eyes from his man when he saw Oliver in his outfit, and Hermione was even more delighted, as it took people’s eyes from her.

“You’re the only bride who doesn’t want everyone to look at her,” Fred had whispered.

“I only want you to look at me,” she said, before kissing him. “Although I reserve the right to look at Oliver’s legs,” she teased, giving him a wink that made him press his body to hers.

“Well you’ll have to hurry up and get your fill,” he replied. “Separate bedrooms tonight,” he joked, reminding her of the night of Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Less than an hour after they had begun kissing, she and Fred had stolen up to his and George’s old bedroom at The Burrow, leaving a sock on the door handle as a message to George that the room was occupied and that he and Oliver needed to find somewhere else to be together. Unfortunately for Fred and Hermione, George had had the brilliant idea that he and Oliver should disillusion themselves and fly into his old bedroom through the window, thus neatly avoiding his mother, who was policing the bedroom occupancy from the bottom of the stairs. And missing the sock message altogether.

The first few moments had been embarrassing, as both Hermione and Fred had been naked, but it was, in fact, Hermione who had insisted that the wizards stay in George’s bed. “You’ll never get past Molly, and you deserve some alone time just as much as we do,” she said, transfiguring a spare sheet into a curtain which she hung between the twins’ beds before casting silencing charms over each of the couples. 

No-one in the Weasley family except George and Oliver ever knew that Fred had actually proposed to Hermione that very night, once he saw how much she also cared for his twin and his need to be with his new boyfriend. Hermione had been flustered, and told Fred to ask her again at Christmas, which he gladly did. That time, she said yes.

No-one in the Weasley family except Fred and Hermione ever knew that Oliver had proposed to George the morning after they had first got together. George had snuck down to the kitchen and stolen Molly’s largest teapot, which he filled and put on a tray with two visible mugs and two disillusioned ones. The Scot, it turned out, was not a morning person. When George brought him a mug of sweetened tea in bed, Oliver swore in joy. When George put his hand in his pocket and produced half a bottle of firewhisky which had been abandoned on the sofa by someone – probably Charlie and Lauren, who had a penchant for sneaking late-night shags in the living room while their baby boy slept upstairs – Oliver’s eyes grew wide. Before George had finished adding a dram to all four mugs, Oliver had proposed, George had accepted and the two were snogging again, leading Hermione to take over the tea distribution.

And no-one in the Weasley family except Ginny and Harry ever knew why, at every Weasley wedding, function, Christmas party and event, Oliver Wood and Hermione Granger would always seek each other out once the dancing was underway. They would each do a couple of shots of firewhisky and then launch into their own brand of dirty dancing. Hermione would slide up and down Oliver’s body; fisting his kilt in her fingers while watching George. Oliver would slide his fingers teasingly up and down Hermione’s sides while watching Fred, and then they would both giggle uncontrollably before their respective husbands sauntered over to collect them; a matching wicked look in their eyes which left the pair in no doubt as to how they would be spending the night.


End file.
